


Billboard Butt

by LadyDrace



Series: Junk Ficlets from Tumblr [110]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Actor Stiles, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, POV Alternating, Producer Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 05:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11178252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace
Summary: Stiles took a part in the worst movie to ever hit Hollywood. And somehow that was the best move of his career.





	Billboard Butt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [matildajones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/matildajones/gifts).



> Originally [posted on Tumblr](http://ladydrace.tumblr.com/post/151749732491/billboard-butt) as a birthday present for Matildajones. 
> 
> Unbetaed.

”They said they’d finish it in post-production,” Stiles moans from under the covers, keeping his face hidden. Partly from shame, but mostly so he won’t have to actually witness Scott’s grimacing at every scene as it unfolds on Stiles’ laptop.

 

”Oh. Well… I think at least they tried?” Stiles doesn't have to see Scott’s face to feel the wince, because even to Scott’s own ears that's gotta sound weak.

 

”You know, when I started acting I never thought I’d be a household name, but I also never thought I’d be known across the fucking globe for being the idiot to accept a role in the worst movie of the century.”

 

”Well there’s a lot of century left,” Scott says diplomatically.

 

”Trust me, it can’t get any worse.”

 

”I’m not sure I agree. What about Sharknado?”

 

”The whole point of that movie was to be horrible. And it actually had great special effects.”

 

”Grizzly Rage?”

 

”Dude, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but while they might have stolen their bear footage from a nature documentary there was at least an actual bear involved. This is… this is supposed to be a zombie movie, but the only actual zombie in there is made of potatoes and nylon stockings, and it’s blatantly obvious!”

 

”But hey, potatoes or not, you acted your socks off to those pantyhose,” Scott says, and Stiles can tell from his voice that he’s grinning.

 

”Not funny,” he huffs as he emerges from the blankets. ”Okay, it was a decent pun, I’ll give you that.” He slaps the laptop shut where it’s still paused on the scene where he’s definitely crying his eyeballs out in Oscar-worthy grief over losing his potato girlfriend to the zombie virus. ”I can never show my face on screen again.”

 

Scott pats him on the back with sympathy. ”Well, look on the bright side. At least you got paid.”

 

”Not nearly enough to compensate for the lifetime of humiliation, ugh.” He goes back under the covers, because why the hell not.

 

He’s still got an agent, though, and agents don’t seem to accept your choice of becoming a blanket burrito as a valid career. So less than a week after having his life ruined on the big screen, Stiles is at another audition. The minute he’s in the room, he knows it’s a total loss, because right there on the table is an advance copy of The Movie That Shall Not Be Named, and he flops into the chair set out for him. ”Ugh, fine, get it over with.”

 

”… excuse me?”

 

Stiles finally looks at the caster, and it’s fucking awful, because not only is he about to be ridiculed just for the heck of it, possibly run out of Hollywood too, but it’s gonna be done to him by a goddamn work of art. ”Look, dude, whatever it is I’m here for, can you get it over with, so I can go back to my couch and eat my weight in Doritos? Whatever you have to say I’ve already said it to myself, and you don’t have to worry, I’ll probably never act again.”

 

”Uhm. Well, that would be unfortunate since we’re very interested in hiring you for our next movie.”

 

Already half-way out of his seat to leave, Stiles plops back down again and almost slips off the chair. ”Say what now?”

 

Mr. Gorgeous gives him a small smile, and Stiles is reeling, because _what is happening right now_. ”No one is disputing that this movie is absolutely terrible, but there is one thing about it that stands out. _You_.”

 

”What?” Stiles asks weakly, because he’s still not understanding what’s happening to him.

 

”This movie has the worst special effects, plot holes the size of Texas, bad lighting, awful co-star chemistry, cheap sets, low quality sound, and music that would be better fitted to monster movies of the sixties,” Mr. Gorgeous says, waving the incriminating disc around. ”But what it also showed was one actor who managed to stay professional, even in the face of obvious lackluster performances all around you. You made us actually empathize with a character that I’m willing to bet had no more background information than what would fit on a post-it note, and you did it while acting opposite an actress with about as much facial expression as a cardboard cut-out, and who was obviously not even there at times. We can use that.”

 

”I’m… you… okay?”

 

”Why don’t we start this audition over,” Mr. Gorgeous suggests and holds out his hand. ”Derek Hale, I’m with Howl Productions.”

 

”Stiles Stilinski.”

 

Derek smiles at him. ”So, Mr. Stilinski. Do you think you’d be able to act convincingly opposite a tennis ball or a green screen for about fifty percent of your shooting time?”

 

Stiles is helpless against smiling back.

 

* * *

 

”This is the worst movie I have ever seen in my life. Kill me now, why am I wasting precious minutes of my youth watching this crap?” Laura moans, and tries to get out of the chair, but is stopped by Derek’s hands heavy on her shoulders.

 

”Just wait, hang on for another thirty seconds.”

 

”You owe me chicken wings after this,” she grumbles, but does settle down again to watch the agonizingly bad acting.

 

Derek isn’t about to argue, it is a horrifically bad movie, and he’s half sure Peter only sent it to him as a joke. But if that really is the case, then it would be beautiful irony if Derek is right about what he’s found. ”Any minute now,” he murmurs, and he can feel Laura sit up straighter in her seat as the badly written and even more badly lighted emotional climax of the movie starts up. The young man on the screen is reaching out with shaking hands towards what is clearly a dummy of some kind, his face twisted in agony, but without being overdone. Derek really wishes the quality was higher, so as to capture what he’s sure is a multitude of nuance in that expressive face, as the character grieves the gory zombie death of his girlfriend. Who may or may not be just a few sacks of flour with stage blood on them.

 

”Derek…”

 

”I know.”

 

”No, but… _Derek_ -”

 

”I told you.”

 

As the minutes drag on through the scene it’s at least obvious that the producers knew they’d struck gold, because nothing in the plot so far backs up an emotional scene this lengthy, but Derek just sends silent thanks to whoever in the editing process gave them this gift. The guy on the screen is silently crying now, and not much of anything is happening, and yet Derek can feel his heart clench with sympathy, even despite the horrendously bad soundtrack.

 

”Is he flexible?” Laura’s question jerks him out of it, and he rewinds to a more action filled moment where unseen zombies are chasing the main couple through the woods. ”Well, he’s dedicated at least,” Laura says, wincing as the guy takes a very obviously painful branch to the face, and yet just keeps going. There are a few decent rolling falls and one very nice and agile moment of tree-climbing, and Derek knows Laura is on board after that. Especially because the tree-climbing was shot from frog-eye, and even if Derek wasn’t looking for it specifically for this movie there would be no missing that the guy on the screen has a frankly amazing ass.

 

”We have our Nightwing,” Laura says, turning to him with a grin.

 

”I think we do.”

 

* * *  
  


(3 years later.)

 

”You know,” Stiles says slowly, looking up at the massive billboard overlooking Times Square, ”I knew what I was going into, playing Nightwing and all, but… I don’t think I could really fathom just how many people would see a giant picture of my ass every day.”

 

”Don’t worry, I don’t think anyone could. Nightwing’s ass is a whole concept of its own,” Derek says as he comes up beside Stiles, sneaking an arm around his middle.

 

”You mean _my_ ass.”

 

”Eh.” Derek shrugs. ”Yours is good too.”

 

”That _is_ my ass,” Stiles points out.

 

”Photoshop. Also, that spandex really firms it up.”

 

Stiles elbows him. ”Shut up, you’ve seen the real deal just this morning!”

 

”And I told you it’s good, but Nightwing’s ass isn’t actually real, and nothing real will ever match up,” Derek argues, and okay, it is on, Stiles is going to get his sweet revenge somehow. He narrows his eyes at Derek. ”You realized you liked dudes because of his ass, didn’t you?”

 

Derek clears his throat and awkwardly starts moving away. ”Maybe.”

 

”You did!” Stiles crows, and bounces after him. ”You totally spent like ten years making a movie with your sister just so you could plaster your teenage spank bank material all over a fucking billboard! And _my_ butt was good enough to live up to your bisexual awakening! Screw the world wide premiere on Thursday, _this_ is the best day of my life!”

 

”Oh, shut up.”

 

End.


End file.
